The last time I cooked with a Dutch oven was on a Medieval event at Crecy in France.
The locals had donated a Chicken and loads of bread to each camp so we roasted the chicken in the pot and set about making a bread pudding in a bowl for dessert. The chicken came out in the early evening and I set the bowl straight onto a couple of sticks laid in the bottom of the oven hung over the fire to cook while we ate the chicken.
A little while later I checked the pudding, which seemed to be doing OK and threw a handful of sugar on the top to give it a bit of crust. I also noticed the local dignitaries wandering from camp to camp to see what we were all up to. Seeing an opportunity to show off that the English could cook too, I waited until they were level with our camp to lift the lid of the pot.
The combination of vapourised chicken fat, molten sugar and a sudden inrush of air proved to be slightly explosive. The plume of flame cleared the top of the cooking rig, nearly taking my eyebrows with it.
I nochalently replaced the lid and looking toward a very surpised delegation, gave a gallic style shrug and said "Flambé" before turning away and back to my seat.
I have to say the crust was burned but the rest of it was pretty good.
I really shouldn't read stuff like that at work, everyone wonders what I'm laughing at. Brilliant!